


A Traditional Puerto Rican Wedding

by badboy_fangirl



Category: Prison Break
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-17 21:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10602240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badboy_fangirl/pseuds/badboy_fangirl
Summary: When all else fails, throw the wedding yourself.





	

**Author's Note:**

> All Puerto Rican terms, I borrowed from this website: http://www.elboricua.com/weddings.html

_Just outside Carolina, Puerto Rico, April 2006_    
  
"What if he'd been a girl? Would you have been disappointed?"   
  
Fernando Sucre's bright face lifted so he could look his friend in the eye. "Of course not,  _papi_. A little girl would look just like Maricruz, so how could I be disappointed?"   
  
Michael Scofield observed the sleeping infant, who lay in his crib undisturbed by their low voices. He thought of a little girl who looked just like Sara Tancredi, and he suddenly knew exactly what Sucre meant. "Speaking of Maricruz, where is she?" he asked as Sucre led him back into the living room. He'd arrived just a few minutes earlier, but Sucre had been insistent that Michael come and see his son, even though the six-month-old baby was taking his morning nap.   
  
"She went to the market," Sucre replied, gesturing for Michael to take a seat on the sofa. He smiled, his guileless eyes full of happiness. "She'll be back soon."   
  
"So things are good here?" Michael asked. He looked around the small apartment, which was a mother-in-law unit just behind and to the right side of the house Sucre's mother lived in. It was nicely furnished and the spring sun filtered in through a broad window that overlooked the ocean. He'd never been to Puerto Rico before, but thus far it had been a pleasant experience.   
  
" _Si_. Very good. We're happy. My mother is ecstatic to have us here with her." Fernando paused, causing Michael to turn his eyes to his friend, who watched him intently. "How about you?"   
  
Michael smiled, and his facial muscles didn't protest because of disuse. If anything, he smiled frequently these days, so the question didn't pose any major angst. "We're doing well, too," he said.   
  
"Any  _bambinos_  for you, then?" Sucre asked with a lascivious wink.   
  
"Uh...well. Eventually.. Maybe. Actually, Linc's gonna beat me to fatherhood again."   
  
Sucre laughed and clapped his hands together. "Awww, Sink and the little latina, huh? Whoda thunk it?"   
  
Michael shrugged, his soft laughter joining his friend's. He and Lincoln had decided, after bringing The Company down, to do what they'd dreamed of when they first reached Panama. They bought another boat, and the five of them--LJ, Sofia, and Sara rounding out that head count--had been traveling for several months. When Michael had gotten word that Fernando and Maricruz had relocated to Puerto Rico, to Sucre's hometown even, he'd changed their course and brought them through the Panama Canal to visit his old cellmate.   
  
Their yacht was large--at least as big as the original  _Christina Rose_  had been, but it had become apparent early on that Lincoln was making up for lost time, and as they came to dock in Carolina, which was a few miles from where Sucre lived, it was just in time for him to announce that they were getting married because they were expecting a baby.   
  
Michael wasn't sure how he felt about it because it all seemed so sudden, and even he and Sara had not yet discussed marriage. They were also careful to use condoms, and one thing that had never changed about his big brother was his distaste for birth control of that variety. He also didn't seem, to Michael, to have learned much from all that had transpired as he appeared to be repeating the actions of his early twenties, right down to marrying someone Michael wasn't certain he loved.   
  
In truth, Michael had come to see Sucre with the hope that his friend was happy in his domesticity and it would somehow give him a little faith when it came to his brother.   
  
"I suppose it's only natural, he saved her life a few times, but to say I'm a little unsure about the whole thing is putting it lightly." Michael settled back into the cushions of the sofa and looked directly at the other man. "But he's a big boy, and what can I really do?"   
  
Sucre's brown eyes turned thoughtful for a moment before he offered, "I thought they might have something going on when we were in Panama. Linc looked out for her, you know? And he really wanted her to know the truth about Whistler. So maybe it's more serious than you think."   
  
"It's more serious because he's gotten her pregnant and now he wants to get married. We were almost into Carolina harbor when he told me he wanted to find a justice of the peace. I wasn't sure if I should push him overboard or congratulate him." Michael shrugged again, trying to make light of something that had actually kept him awake at night, causing Sara to whisper soothingly to him about not being co-dependent and letting Lincoln live with the consequences of his choices.   
  
"Why don't we throw him a wedding, then?" Sucre asked.   
  
Michael paused in mid-movement, his hand halfway between the armrest of the sofa and his head, which he had intended to rub agitatedly. "Come again?" he asked, looking at his friend with what he was sure was pure confusion on his face.   
  
"Why not? My mother and sisters threw me and Maricruz this great wedding right after we got here, because of course, my mother couldn't stand for my child to be born and me not be married. She got a Priest over here pronto to take care of it. But the traditional Puerto Rican wedding is something else,  _papi_. If Linc wants to get married, why don't we help him?"   
  
Michael waited a beat and said, "We're not Catholic, Fernando."   
  
Sucre waved his hand, smiling broadly as he said, "I can explain to her that you're heathens, don't worry about that."   
  
Michael found himself laughing. Heathen was definitely a good description of Lincoln, and he imagined Mrs. Sucre's opinion forming rather rapidly when she met his brother.   
  
When he didn't agree quickly enough, Sucre added, "Besides, this way I'll get to hang out with you, you know, for a while. Nobody's chasing us, nobody's trying to kill us-well, Mommie might try to kill us, but she won't be meaning to. Come on, Michael. Stay here for a while. Let Linc get married. Maybe it will be okay?"   
  
He felt his head bobbing up and down in agreement and then the words, "You'll have to come back to the boat and convince Linc yourself though," came out of his mouth.   
  
The grin that split his old cellmate's face was as powerful as the sun.   
  


*

  
  
Lincoln embraced Sucre warmly, and it took Michael a moment to remember that they had spent a great deal of time together when they were planning the escape from  _Sona_. He always thought of Sucre as his friend, but he could tell from the rapport between the two of them that they had their own version of friendship.   
  
The yacht was docked in the Carolina marina and as he and Sucre had approached with Sucre's baby, little Miguel, Lincoln, Sofia, Sara and LJ had all come out on deck to greet them. Sucre showed off the baby and very quickly Miguel was in Sara's arms. Michael watched with a little trepidation as she and Sofia cooed and played with the baby. His eyes kept jumping back and forth between his brother and Sucre to his girlfriend with a baby. Sara seemed perfectly at ease— _dare he think it?_ —even happy to have a child in her arms. Sofia, who had just started to show the symptoms of pregnancy and was often up on deck hanging over the side of the stern eating saltines, had taken an interest in the child instantly as well, but that was more understandable.   
  
The longer he watched them, the more he became convinced that the discomfort was solely his own.   
  
"No, man, you don't have to do that," Linc was saying, and Michael turned his full attention back to his brother as he tried to deflect Sucre's offer.   
  
"I want to. It will be so fun! Don't even worry about it, Michael already told me you guys aren't Catholic, so it won't be traditional in every sense. But it's okay," Sucre waved his hands to emphasize his point. "We can find a way around it."   
  
Michael watched as Lincoln turned and looked at Sofia, who might have been playing with the baby but had heard every word just the same. He reached out an arm to her and drew her into his side. "What do you think?" he asked, his arm securely holding her against him.   
  
Shyly, Sofia looked at Sucre's expectant face and then back at Lincoln. "I  _am_  Catholic, actually," she said and Michael saw Lincoln blink. He obviously had no idea that aspect would matter to her.   
  
"You'd like to be married by a priest then, wouldn't you?" his brother asked of her softly.   
  
She nodded and then looked back at Sucre, who was nodding enthusiastically. "I'm sure my mother can work something out with the Priest. Technically, they might want you to get baptized or something, Linc, but I bet Mommie could bully Father Torres into overlooking that."   
  
The strength of Sofia's smile at this pronouncement rivaled Sucre's beaming face in radiance.   
  


*

  
  
That night, lying in bed with Sara, Michael couldn't sleep. Generally when he couldn't sleep, Sara had no problem turning over and finding nirvana alone, but tonight, she lay next to him, her fingers tracing over his chest in no particular pattern.   
  
Finally she asked quietly so their voices wouldn't carry to the cabin next to theirs, "What exactly about this marriage are you so against?"   
  
Mentally, Michael shrugged. He could see the sense in it, the archaic nobility of it, even, but he still felt uneasy. "I'm not against the marriage. In theory." He sighed heavily, running his hand up her arm to her shoulder in the darkness of their bedroom, his long fingers pulling her tightly against him even though she was already plastered to his side. "It's just that I know-I think," he amended "-that Linc doesn't love her. He married LJ's mom for the same reason, you know, because of a baby. It didn't end well, and LJ always paid the price. Linc was a part-time father at best, and I've always thought that maybe if he'd lived full-time with LJ both of their lives might have been very different."   
  
Sara made a conciliatory sound in her throat, he supposed to prompt him to keep speaking, but he didn't really have anything else to add. That was it, in a nutshell. When things went wrong between Lincoln and Sofia, inevitably everyone would suffer. Michael knew they couldn't keep sailing around the Pacific, or now the Caribbean, especially when Sofia would be needing medical care on a regular basis that Sara alone couldn't provide, but it would affect everyone. It had affected everyone for years after Linc and Lisa split up.   
  
The silence lingered for a moment longer before Sara finally spoke. "Michael, I know you have this 'save-the-world-especially-Lincoln' complex, but for Pete's sake. The man is closing in on forty. At some point you have to let him go. You have to accept that you can't control the universe, and it's not your responsibility to, anyway. If he wants to marry Sofia, your best action is to support him. If Sucre wants to throw him a bright, spangly wedding, and Linc wants to let him, and it makes Sofia happy, then let's just enjoy it." Her head shifted against his shoulder and he could feel her eyes on him even through the darkness. "Okay?"   
  
Michael shifted his face so that his lips could easily reach hers. Pressing his mouth to hers, he murmured an agreement because he knew she was right, even if he was still worried about it. She shifted against him as he slid one of his legs between hers. "You could always, I don't know, talk to Lincoln about it, too, you know?" she suggested huskily.   
  
Michael let one of his hands drift down her back to palm her bottom gently. "I know. That's a good idea," he agreed, but he let himself become distracted by her warm skin and the flavor of her mouth when she gasped against him as his fingers found some sensitive skin on the underside of her bottom.   
  
She said his name, and maybe it was an attempt to bring him back to their serious conversation, but instead it sounded so sexy his body reacted as though it had an entirely different meaning.   
  
Later when she slept soundly in his arms, he was thinking about Lincoln again, wishing his brother could have what he had with Sara. Then he faced the truth that if he didn't confront his brother, he'd never be able to support the wedding, much less the marriage.   
  


*

  
  
Michael soon learned planning a Puerto Rican wedding was almost as complicated as breaking someone out of prison. (Of course, he did have the thought that perhaps all weddings had as many details, but since this was his first in anyway, it felt particular to  _Puerto Rico_.) He would never have thought Sucre could have pulled it together, but with the help of his mother (who insisted that Michael and Lincoln call her Mommie, too), Maricruz and his two sisters, Janisa and Eva, within 72 hours of their arrival on the island, things were shaping up pretty well.   
  
"Are you kidding me?" Sucre asked when Michael asked him if it was too much trouble for the fourth time. "This is Mommie's way of getting back at me for our wedding. Sending me all over the city looking for  _capias_  and  _amapolas_? That's just her way of saying, 'Get to work on making me more grandchildren!' Trust me. She's not upset, she's just making sure everything gets done."   
  
They pulled up to a flower shop and Sucre hopped out of the car. "You need to come with me, because I won't be able to carry them all myself," he said, gesturing to Michael, who was already climbing out of the car.   
  
Michael found it very strange that they had been sent on a flower assignment at all when Sucre's older sister Janisa had been adamant that she wanted to be in charge of the flowers. But Mrs. Sucre had her making some ornate cups out of coconuts for the wedding  _brindis_ , the special containers that would hold the traditional  _café con leche_  for the first wedding toast.   
  
Michael himself loved coffee, but the idea of espresso in the place of champagne—or in Sofia's case, apple cider—seemed silly. Sara had given him a warning look when he started to protest the item. The Sucres were throwing this party, and they really had no reason to look a gift horse in the mouth.   
  
Tradition was tradition, and so he became a slave to the motions, doing what Mrs. Sucre instructed, running here and there with Fernando, and then sitting for several hours late in the evening with Sara and Maricruz at a picnic table as they glued the ribbons and jewels for the  _capias_. (Sucre begged off on this duty somehow. Michael was never quite sure how that happened.) If nothing else, it was educational. Lincoln and LJ had other responsibilities, and they were kept busy much of the day while they hung decorations around a gazebo that had been built for Fernando and Maricruz's wedding and was re-erected in Linc and Sofia's honor.   
  
Lincoln came wandering through the backyard sometime around eleven, causing Sara to nudge Michael with her knee under the table. He glanced up, knowing what her prodding meant. It had been more than four days since the wedding preparations had gotten under way and he still hadn't said anything that was on his mind to his brother.   
  
"Go, now," she hissed. "I think Sofia went to bed already."   
  
Michael was grateful he wasn't sitting on the end of the bench because he got the distinct feeling Sara would have launched him off of it forcefully if she could have. As it was, he gave her a slightly stricken look and then pushed himself to his feet. "Okay," he breathed back.   
  
"What's going on?" Maricruz asked, her eyes going back and forth between them.   
  
"Oh, nothing," Sara said breezily, returning her gaze to the ribbon she was currently twisting into a bell shape. "Michael just needs to talk to Lincoln about a couple of details."   
  
As Michael pulled his long legs out from under the picnic bench and started to walk away, he couldn't help the snort of derision that erupted from his nose. The truth of it was the more he'd thought about it, the more nervous he became. What if he confronted his brother and made him face his feelings and then Lincoln wanted to call off the wedding? He could only imagine the chaos that would erupt among Sucre's relatives if they didn't get to throw this wedding. Someone (Michael suspected Sucre himself) had let it slip that Sofia was expecting. Michael had visions of Sucre's mother with a shotgun pointed at Lincoln if he didn't do the right thing. Of course, it would all be communicated in rapid-fire Spanish, so only Sofia would know for sure what was said.   
  
Somehow, that was of little comfort.   
  
He followed Lincoln around the house and watched as his brother sat on the front porch steps. There was an odd sound and then he saw the flare of a match in the darkness. He could smell the cigarette smoke as he edged closer. "You picking up that bad habit again?" he asked.   
  
Obviously not realizing he had company, Lincoln's body jumped in surprise, but even in the dim light, Michael saw a smile break out over his face. "Naw, I just bummed one off of Sucre's brother-in-law. It's a celebratory smoke. You know, I'm getting hitched tomorrow."   
  
Michael leaned against the porch frame as opposed to sitting next to his brother, which by the way Lincoln had moved over on the step, he obviously expected Michael to sit. "Yeah, I heard something about that. And my fingers are killing me from gluing little blue beads to peach colored ribbons."   
  
"Don't blame me," Lincoln said defensively, taking another deep drag off his cigarette. "It wasn't my idea."   
  
"Oh, but it was," Michael chided. "You're the one who wanted to get married, right?"   
  
Exhaling, he half-coughed, half-laughed. "I'd have been just as happy with a preacher-man and a couple of quick 'I do's' and a big fat kiss. It's your fault we're having a fuckin' Mexican Fiesta."   
  
Michael laughed unexpectedly, but then quieted himself rapidly. "Don't let them hear you say that," he warned, holding his stomach as he fought the laughter.   
  
Lincoln chuckled too, as he blew out another stream of white smoke. "It's really nice of them. And it's good for 'Fia. She needed something like this, and it would never have occurred to me, as I'm sure you're well aware."   
  
Michael cleared his throat by way of agreement, and then paused, wondering how in the world to really broach this subject. Finally he just pushed the words out without looking for a good segue. "I don't think this marriage is a good idea, Linc."   
  
Lincoln flicked away what was left of the cigarette and looked up at Michael. "Why not?" he asked, but his tone didn't sound angry.   
  
Michael hesitated only briefly. "Because you're not in love with her."   
  
There was a long pause, one that gave Lincoln time to drop his eyes away from Michael's, but also allowed Michael to take the seat next to his brother. He waited, albeit impatiently for 30 seconds to pass by that felt more like 30 years. Then Lincoln huffed out a breath and turned to look at him. "I know, man," he said softly, so softly that Michael couldn't help but reel a little in shock at the honesty. He thought his brother would at least engage in a half-hearted attempt to convince him otherwise. "But she loves me, and I care about her, and we're having a baby. Her life hasn't been too great, either, you know. I can give her something. I can make her happy."   
  
Michael started shaking his head negatively long before Lincoln finished speaking. "You can't. Linc. You can't. You can't marry someone for those reasons. You should love her, or you should wait until you find the one you do love. It's not right."   
  
In past times, Lincoln's eyes might have glinted with anger at having Michael tell him so blatantly what to do, but now he just dropped his chin slightly and looked away, back out into the darkness. "The love of my life is gone, Michael. I don't really expect to feel that way again. But I have this. I  _want_  this. Really I do. You can't understand because you have Sara now. But maybe you can imagine it, man. Imagine if we hadn't found Sara. Imagine if she wasn't safe with us now. Imagine she was gone, and in her place was a woman who needed you, and loved you, and you knew you could take care of her. You knew that by making her life a good one, you were somehow honoring Sara's memory."   
  
He paused, and Michael found he couldn't speak. His throat felt clogged as memories of Veronica danced in the air between them. They had spent the majority of their lives together, and the idea that she was really dead still sometimes took him by surprise. The pain seemed to gain power with Lincoln's words and Michael's cheeks were suddenly wet. "It's all I've got now, of her. This thing, it feels right, Michael, and it's all I've got to go by. Maybe it's stupid, but the idea is just too good to pass up. I can do this. I can be a good husband to Sofia. I can be a dad to a new baby. I can be all the things to her I never was to Vee. All the things I never even tried to be for Lisa. And somehow, in my heart, that feels like the truest love I've ever felt."   
  
The fact that his brother had just said more inside one minute's time about a topic Michael had felt certain he'd never get him to address at all made any more words superfluous. He thought of Mrs. Sucre's backyard and the beautiful flowers that hung from the latticed gazebo. It would be a beautiful ceremony. It would be a moment of pure joy, for at least a few of the attendees.   
  
He wiped at his cheeks with the hem of his t-shirt. Then he sniffed a little and clapped Lincoln on the back, rubbing his hand across his brother’s warm body. Who was he, Michael Scofield, to try to steal it from any of them? Even himself?   
  
“If you’re sure,” was what he finally said.  
  
“I’m sure. I even talked to the priest, you know,” Lincoln said and Michael stiffened in surprise.  
  
“I didn’t know that,” he responded.  
  
“Mrs. Sucre said the only way the guy would do the ceremony was if he could speak to me first. I guess my intentions seemed noble to him, because he agreed to do it.” Lincoln reached over, his fingers wrapping around Michael’s leg, just above the knee. Lincoln squeezed him, a swift and reassuring gesture. “Thanks for caring, Michael. But really, I know what I’m doing.”  
  
There was a long pocket of silence, the balmy air around them absorbing the things neither of them were good at saying. “Okay,” Michael said, and for the first time, it actually felt that way.  
  


*

  
  
The next morning, at 11am, Sofia walked down the aisle, her head covered in white lace. Sucre gave her away in the absence of her parents, who had both died when she was in high school. Michael saw a stern look pass between his brother and his best friend, but Sucre followed that up with a characteristic wink and Lincoln’s lips twitched. Michael was certain his brother barely kept himself from bursting into laughter.  
  
He also was sure it was the priest’s presence that prevented belly laughs. He’d never seen Linc look as nervous as he did when he faced Father Torres, and he got the feeling that whatever had transpired between them in the conversation they’d had, Lincoln was convinced this marriage was for life. He took it that seriously, and he didn’t want the priest to think otherwise. There might have been some concern that the priest would refuse to officiate, but Michael was also fairly positive that Mrs. Sucre had arm-twisted Father Torres into this situation to begin with.  
  
Whatever the case, within a half-hour’s time, Lincoln and Sofia were husband and wife, and there didn’t seem to be a dry eye in the backyard. Michael looked at Sara who sat next to him, dabbing gently at her eyes with a tissue. They each could have been standing up with the bride and groom, but Lincoln and Sofia decided against having any attendants. Both of Sucre’s sisters had had six bride’s maids each, but Maricruz had had none, so she had been encouraging to Sofia that it wasn’t necessary, even for a traditional Puerto Rican Wedding.  
  
He blinked back his own tears and asked quietly, “Why are you crying?” He knew why he was crying; he’d had that feeling come over him the night before—the certainty that this was the right thing for Lincoln—but also that he could see it in his own future. Maybe a traditional Puerto Rican Wedding loomed on the horizon for him and Sara.  
  
She looked a little startled by the question, but then she leaned close to him and whispered, “Because I know you’re happy about it. And Lincoln’s happy about it, and Sofia and LJ. You’re my family, and you’re happy. It makes me happy. Happy tears,” she said, shrugging briefly.  
  
He caught her lips with his, giving her a gentle but thorough kiss. “I love you, Dr. Tancredi,” he breathed.  
  
Sara smiled. “I know,” she said simply.  
  


*

  
  
It took almost an hour for Lincoln and Sofia to greet everyone (several families from the Sucres neighborhood came out for the event even though they hadn’t technically been invited) and pin their  _capias_  on them. By the time it was Michael and Sara’s turn, Lincoln was cursing under his breath about how his fingers were throbbing from the pinning process.  
  
“Now you know how I felt, making the damn things,” Sara muttered under her breath as she brushed her lips against Lincoln’s cheek. “But congratulations,” she said with a smile, hugging him tightly.  
  
“I’d smack your ass,” Lincoln growled lowly. “But Father Torres is watching me like a hawk.”  
  
“Good,” Sofia said smartly. “I’m glad he’s watching.” She lifted a hand and waved at the priest, who as Michael turned and looked, did in fact appear to be watching them.  
  
Michael pulled her close and hugged her tightly. “Welcome to the family,” he murmured in her ear.  
  
“Thank you,” she replied. As they eased apart, she looked intently into his face. “Are you really happy about it, Michael?”  
  
Nervously, he threw a glance at Lincoln, but his brother wasn’t even looking at them, he was still engaged in some sort of subtle battle of wits with Sara. He didn’t imagine Lincoln would have told Sofia’s his concerns, but then again, he thought perhaps he didn’t know his brother as well as he thought he did. “I am,” he answered honestly.  
  
Sofia straightened Michael’s  _capia_  as it had gotten a little smushed in their embrace. “I’m glad,” she replied.  
  
“Me, too,” he said. Their eyes met, and damned if Michael didn’t feel a little wetness gather at the corners of his eyes again.  
  
Then she leaned up towards his ear on the side away from her new husband and his girlfriend. “I’m going to throw the bouquet to Sara, so get ready.”  
  
Another hour passed before this tradition came to fruition, but as he stood next to Sucre who had Maricruz at his side and Miguel in his arms, Michael complained softly to his friend about what Sofia had said. He watched as the bouquet lobbed through the air, straight into Sara's waiting hands.  
  
Sucre only laughed. “That’s the real touch of the Puerto Rican wedding,  _papi_. You see, we’re already planning the next one.”


End file.
